So sick

I’ve more or less quit smoking, which certainly isn’t helping my attitude any. I have never smoked a lot; at the most maybe 5 or 6 cigarettes a day, and only when at work. I have found I don’t need it any other time. I ran out of money a few weeks ago and haven’t picked any up since. It’s difficult not to smoke and stuff your face when you get yelled at for a good portion of your workday. It’s to the point where nearly everyone has cried at work at least once (men and women alike). My boss has never been one for keeping a low profile. I do my best to ignore it, but in all honesty, I believe this person is one of the main contributors to my shitty outlook and low self-esteem. I let her infect me, which I can’t stand. I can ignore her for a few hours, but after nine hours it’s difficult to tune it out.

Besides that, Satanism is going well. I keep telling myself to spin more and more webs, and eventually I’ll catch her too. It’s really only a matter of time before I either explode and get fired, or she does. I refuse to move on at this point, no matter how unpleasant. At this point I just want to prove to myself that I can endure the absolute worst. I know I am capable of that. I’m not going to let some depressed, screaming bitch outdo me, or prevent me from getting where I want to be. It’s all right at my fingertips if I can just manage to endure another year or two.

On a sidenote, I’m getting fucking fat, which is slightly irritating. I definitely am not as concerned with it as I should be. I’ve always been vain about it, however, there is too much on my plate (what a pun) right now for me to be able to focus on maintaining anything other than my mind. Right now I just want anything pleasurable, anything I can enjoy in the company of those I care for. And I don’t feel too bad considering I am fattening up my boyfriend at the same time. I enjoy cooking, so why restrain myself? I know eventually I will start to care, and perhaps then I will do something about it. For now though, my clothes are a little more snug and my fingers a little chubbier. But who gives a shit when you’re getting laid on a constant basis?

Regrets are for the dead.